The Greatest Love Story Never Told
by Batmanismyhusband
Summary: Vegeta discovers love in Bulma's ample bosom.
1. Welcome to Earth, with open bar

He was here on an act of generosity and kindness. He didn't understand generosity or kindness. Such things had never been offered to him. Well, perhaps they had, but always by those weaker than him. Yes, she was weaker than him. In the past when someone had been generous or kind they had treated him with reverence as well. She didn't revere him; that was a problem. Of course anyone who had ever been nice to him had also been afraid he was going to murder them. The kindness hadn't been genuine then. They were just trying to stay in his good graces and keep alive. He didn't believe it counted if it wasn't genuine kindness.

She glanced over at him. She was behind the controls of some primitive flying device that moved painfully slow. He was in the co-pilot seat next to her. The sky was blue around them in the upper atmosphere and white clouds whipped past at several hundred kilometers per hour. If he were the weak and sentimental he would have thought it was beautiful.

"Have you been staring at me?"

"No," Vegeta lied.

"That's too bad. I'm really hot," she said with a grin.

"What does your temperature have to do with anything?"

"No, I'm hot. Like I'm nice to look at. Guys want to do me."

Vegeta could surmise what that meant. He looked away. He didn't realize it but his skin tinged pink ever so slightly; Bulma couldn't see because she was flying, and no one else was there, so his embarrassment remained secret.

She was so completely assured of her self. Confidence was a trait he preferred his minions to not have. It would make it more difficult to manipulate her.

"You're gonna like the compound," she told him. The Capsule Corporation compound was where she was taking him. Her father was an inventor like her, but unlike most inventors Vegeta had encountered in the galaxy, they hadn't let other people use their inventions for their own profit. Instead they protected their ideas, kept the ideas for themselves, made a business from their inventions, and from that they made an empire.

"It's in the middle of the city, but we've got so much land it doesn't feel like it," she adjusted the flight path of the craft, "There's a lot of trees. And gardens. We have a lot of gardens. We have an indoor garden with a waterfall; a rock garden; a desert garden; Dad was even talking about putting in a snow garden. There are three swimming pools. Three. Can you believe that? I can't remember how many hot tubs. A sauna. Oh, and there are cats and dogs and dinosaurs all over in some places. My dad, he can't take the idea of some stray animal being out on the street with no one to help it. So he takes them all in," Bulma laughed.

"Like father, like daughter," Vegeta said.

"What do you mean?"

"The Namekians. They've lost their home planet and you've given them a place to stay until they have a new one."

"And you," she pointed out.

Kindness. Someone smart was only kind if they got something out of it... He suspected Bulma was smart. She was helping the Namekians, but she needed their dragon balls. Undoubtedly she was taking them in so she would stay in their good graces long enough to get what she wanted from the dragon balls. She was playing nice with him so he didn't destroy her and her pathetic planet.

"I am no stray. I am a Prince."

Bulma chewed her lower lip.

"What?"

She nibbled a little more. Vegeta noticed the color of her lips and their shape. It wasn't... unpleasant to look at her lips.

"Nothing," she said finally, "You can stay as long as you need to Vegeta. It doesn't matter how long that is."

"I have no desire to stay on your dust ball of a planet. I want only want to know where Kakarot is and then a ship back to civilization."

"You could have a home Vegeta. I don't know if you have one, but you can stay here. I don't mind."

"I don't want your kindness!" he snapped.

Bulma's demeanor changed rapidly enough to catch Vegeta off-guard. "Too bad, jerk off! I'm helping you whether you want me to or not!! You need my help!"

"I don't need anything!" he shouted at her.

"Oh yes you do! Tell me where are you gonna sleep, how are you going to feed your self? What are you going to do for clothes," she said nodding at what he was wearing. It was nearly in tatters. "You don't know any one or anything for like a billion light years in either direction. I'm the one with the spaceship technology. You _need _me!"

"The Prince of Saiyans needs no one!"

"Well, you're wrong!"

Vegeta really, truly thought about grabbing the squawking little harpy by the back of the neck and shoving her face-first through glass plating in the front of the craft she called a windshield. But he didn't. He would never admit this aloud, he could barely admit it to himself, but he did need her. Until he had what he needed he couldn't kill the little wench or anyone she cared about.

They did not speak again until she brought the craft into a descent. A city on a river grew rapidly in front of them as they landed. Not the largest city Vegeta had seen, he had seen whole planets that were cities, but perhaps half a dozen million people probably more lived in this city. What Vegeta knew of the planet had been gathered from brief reconnaissance, scouter data from his proximity twelve hours on the surface, and what Bulma had told him. Most of the population was concentrated to about twelve large metropolitan cities. There were smaller cities, towns, and villages, but startlingly large portions of the planet were uninhabited and wild. Kakarot's boy Gohan had explained to him.

"We live in the mountains where Dad lived with his grandpa, that was a long time ago. There aren't any towns for 300 miles and our nearest neighbor is... uh, maybe a hundred miles away? There's dinosaurs, bears, monkeys, tigers, but no lions. And deer there's a lot of deer. A lot of people don't like to live that far away from stores and malls and other people. It's dangerous too. Besides the animals there are bandits and brigands. We'd probably be in trouble if we didn't have my Dad to look out for us..." The boy had become silent and thoughtful because he would now be returning home with out his father to look out for them.

"There used to be more cities and more people on the planet," the bald monk, Krillin, had continued for the boy, "Big cities, dynasties, empires, and roads every where, but then there were wars. Wars that lasted centuries. Now they're just mostly ruins 'n' stuff. The planet is mostly unsettled wilderness. With Bulma's father's invention everyone turns their house into a capsule when ever they need to and leave. My house is like that. And in the middle of the ocean by the way so don't think you can find me."

Vegeta hadn't been able to resist taunting the meek little man, "Surrounded on all sides by water. Not many places of hide if I did decide to kill you. And now I can sense chi. I could find you blind if I needed to."

Bulma veered the craft to the left and Vegeta saw what must be her home. Three hundred or so acres of the city was green lawns, trees, and big white bubbles behind white walls. These bubbles were buildings, and a large dome with Capsule Corp. written across the top rose up above the tree lines and the walls. There were other smaller buildings scattered across the property, paths, ponds, and swimming pools. Bulma landed the craft on a landing pad not far from the central dome. Around the pad were what he assumed was Bulma's family and a cluster of small domestic animals.

Bulma waved at an old man and not very old woman who were waving frantically at her. She turned to Vegeta.

"I know that I could be asking the impossible of you, but don't be rude to my parents."

Vegeta slowly turned his head to give the woman a good stare down.

"Don't. I'll kill you. I own many guns," Bulma told him.

Vegeta's lips curled in a demented sneer he reserved for those he was about to literally rip apart. "_You_ kill me? I'll have to sleep with one eye open then."

Bulma ignored him. "Mom, Dad!" she cried, jumping out of the ship and into her parents' embrace.

Vegeta stood up and stretched, taking his time. Maybe he should just hide on the ship. He had no desire to meet these people and suffer through pleasantries. He watched Bulma dancing around with her arms around her father's neck and her father dancing with her. She was taller than him, it seemed.

There had been no greetings from his parents like this when he returned to his home planet. They had stood meters from each other as stiff as poles, tersely speaking to each other. "_I have missed you, my son." _But he had rarely been embraced. They were stoic and kept their emotions to themselves rather than parading them around in front of strangers like Bulma did. Vegeta leaned against the seat back. He wondered if he missed his parents. He often told himself he did not.

"Hey Monkey Butt!" Bulma shouted, leaning into the craft.

"What did you call me?!"

"Get out here, you're being rude."

Vegeta growled and followed Bulma out the door.

"Ooooo," cooed a woman who didn't seem much older than Bulma. She was dressed in a tight sleeveless and collarless top and extraordinarily tight red pants. Her hair was blonde and exploded around her head like a flower. "He _is_ hot like you said, Bulma," the woman gleamed.

Vegeta was uncomfortable given his new understanding of the word 'hot.' Did this mean Bulma wanted to 'do him?'

"Did _not_ say he was hot!" roared Bulma.

Vegeta was confused—and a little offended.

"Yes you did, sweetie," her mother said.

Vegeta couldn't recall an occasion of someone ever wanting to mate with him.

"I--! I--!" Bulma could not find a way to conclude her statement, so she decided to violently gesture towards her father. "My father, Professor Briefs!"

"Hello, Vegeta." A man with lavender hair the same as Bulma's reached out and shook Vegeta's right hand. This was a greeting custom. The man's eyes were obscured by thick glass lenses, and on his shoulder was the strangest looking little creature Vegeta had ever seen. It was covered in black fur and appeared to be feline in origin, but the way it slumped over his shoulder it appeared to have no bone structure. Its eyes were enormous and the whites of the eyes were completely visible around the pupils. The pupils were dark, darker than space.

Professor Briefs pulled his wooden pipe from his mouth while still pumping Vegeta's hand up and down. He gestured to the cat with the pipe, "I see you like my cat!"

"...Yes," Vegeta said finally. Bulma had abandoned him to speak with the leader of the Namekians and the boy Dende.

"So, Vegeta," Bulma's mother said wrapping her fingers around his upper arm. Her fingers nearly made it half way around the muscle. She gave his arm a groping squeeze. "I had the maid robot make a room for you inside..."

"That won't be necessary," Vegeta said.

She began maneuvering him towards the house. "Oh, I insist. It's not everyday I get to have someone who tried to destroy the Earth stay in my home. Are you a one towel or a two towel person?"

"I was hoping to speak to the Professor about making a ship ready for me..."

"Oh, you don't want to do that! You just got here. You need to relax. Bulma said you _died_ on Namek. I think that warrants some vacation time, don't you think? Oooo, I know. I should make you a Tom Collins."

When Bulma finished speaking to the Namekians about where they would be staying and chatting to Dende about seeing Gohan she went inside. She found her mother talking to one of the serving 'bots.

"Where is he?" she asked her mother anxiously.

Her mother smiled mischievously.

"I left you with him for one hour. What did you do with him?"

"Took him to his physical limits."

Bulma found Vegeta in the sunroom off of the kitchen. He was sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead of him. On the coffee table there were seven of the glasses Bulma's mother served Tom Collins in, five martinis, six shot glasses, six pint glasses, and several empty energy drink cans.

"She did something to me," Vegeta said, his entire upper body turning to look at her.

"She got you buzzed no doubt," Bulma smirked.

Vegeta returned to the position he was in before. "The room tilts if I move."

Bulma sat down next to him on the couch. She could feel his body heat and sighed. He was bad-tempered, evil, tried to kill her, killed her boyfriend, wanted to kill one of her best friends, and only cared about himself. And he was shorter than her.

"What happens next?" Vegeta asked her.

Bulma was startled by his timing. "What?"

"What happens next?" he repeated.

"I-- We... wait until the dragon balls have recharged, call Porunga the dragon, and make some wishes. You'll just hang out with me until then."

"No..." Vegeta said. He gestured stupidly to him self, "I meant what happens with this buzzed thing?"

"Oh, you'll be back to normal in a bit. Goku usually bounces back after a bit. God, he is hilarious when he's drunk."

Bulma remembered the occasions they had given Goku too much liquor just so they could hear what he would shout about and watch him stagger around Roshi's island. "You know I think he gets smarter when he's drunk."

Vegeta looked at her. "I don't believe you," he said in a low voice.

"It's true," she grinned. "Tomorrow we'll get you some clothes and other stuff."

"...I don't need them."

"You were sorta dead wearing that same set of clothes."

"Do you really find me attractive?"

Bulma's voice caught in her throat. How did he want her to answer that? How did she want to answer that? "My mother misunderstood what I said."

"Good," Vegeta said.

Bulma quickly changed the subject, "This will be good for you. It's safe here, you can lie low for a few months and think about what you're gonna do now that Frieza is gone. You're free."

"Frieza is gone, but his family is not. Frieza only controlled part of his family's empire. There's his father, his brother Kooler, and his sister Frigga. Frieza also has a son Iglos, but he's barely past his larval state; besides, his mother hated Frieza. The Kolds will want to know where their youngest son went and who killed him. If they ever find out I'm alive I'd never be able to go to sleep again without the possibility of never waking up again."

"Oh," Bulma said, "I didn't realize it was that complicated." She wondered if he would be saying any of this if her mother hadn't played happy hostess.

"He murdered my father..."

"Who? Freiza?"

"Yes. I always thought I was sent away for my education, but I was really just a hostage. When Freiza couldn't control the Saiyans anymore he killed them all and my home planet. There was a civil war... There were rumors that Freiza was going to force the monarchy to dissolve and that he was speaking with a colony of Saiyans my grandfather had exiled. That and the crown prince hostage my father must have threatened Frieza."

"What happened to that colony?"

"It was just a rumor. And if it was true Frieza probably killed them. He was afraid of the Super Saiyan."

"Goku," Bulma smiled.

Vegeta glared at her. "Kakarot is a common-bred fool!" he shouted at her.

Bulma stood up. "He saved your life, Vegeta, more than once."

"I never wanted it! I should be the Super Saiyan, not that imbecile! I'm the prince! I'm better than that filth!"

Bulma rolled her eyes and headed to the door. It had been a long-ass day that was following a long-ass couple of months traveling to Namek and getting chased around by the galaxy's most obnoxious scumbags. The odds were more than slim that she was going to be able to argue Vegeta into agreeing that Goku was a hero. Vegeta was a jackass and that wasn't likely to change.

"Where are you going!?" Vegeta demanded.

"To take a bath and then sleep for a week. I'm too tired to listen to your tantrum. Later, princess."

A muscle in Vegeta's forehead twitched. "PRINCESS???" he howled at her as she left.


	2. We Have a Problem

Disclaimer: I don't own or am in any affiliated with the DragonBall franchise.

-- --- -- --- --

Bulma vigorously rubbed her head with a towel then wrapped it around her wet hair and flipped it over her head. She wrapped herself in a robe, sat on her bed, started up her lap top, opened her email and cringed. She hadn't been able to check her email on Namek. She now had over nine thousand new messages. Bulma quickly skimmed the emails, deleting most of them, and tagging a few as important and worth investigating further in the morning. She yawned and glanced around her room sleepily. She had locked her bedroom door and instructed her parents to do the same as a precaution against Vegeta. Not that a locked door was likely to stop Vegeta, but it helped set Bulma's mind at ease. Mrs. Briefs had peeked in on the prince before going to bed and she had told Bulma through the bathroom door while Bulma had been soaking in a bubble bath that Vegeta was passed out on the couch where Bulma had left him.

Bulma tossed the wet towel and robe into a corner in her bathroom knowing a robot would come by and take care of them in the morning. She slipped into one of the baseball jerseys Yamcha had given her and switched off the lights. Bulma had thought she was exhausted, but as soon as she got comfortable in bed she felt restless and alone. It must be because she was not use to being home.

After what felt like a hour of tossing and turning Bulma finally threw the covers off and walked through the dark to the dresser. She picked something up and climbed back into the bed.

Bulma opened the thing she had picked up, her cell phone, and clicked through the phonebook until she reached the number she wanted. Her thumb hovered uncertainly over the send button, and after a moment's hesitation she pressed it and the phone began dialing. There was not an answer, but Bulma had not been expecting one, and the phone just rang five times before going to the voice mail. She listened to the answer message then ended the phone call before the phone started recording. She hugged her knees to her chest and began to cry.

-- -- --

Vegeta did not recall these rooms on the inside of Frieza's palace. He was sure it was Frieza's palace—there were the polished obsidian floors and arches that stretched so high he could never see where the walls ended and the ceiling began. The dark corners, the endless hallways, they were all there, but none of them were how they were supposed to be. There were corridors, stairwells, and towers that led to wings and floors he had never seen before. He was trying to find the way to leave, but the exits were not located where he remembered them. He had to get out. Frieza was looking for him and he had to leave before Frieza found him.

He grabbed one of the servants shuffling past and demanded they tell him how to get out, but released the man immediately when he realized that he did not have a face. Vegeta recoiled with disgust, but did not have time to discover why none of the servants had faces. He had to get out, so he kept running. He found a staircase that he knew would take him to the east observation deck. The observation deck was open to the outside; if he could make it up there he could fly away. Instead of finding the observation room, Vegeta found himself in one of the healing tank rooms that could be found in any of the Kold Empire barracks that were spread across the galaxy. The room appeared to be deserted except for a figure standing by the window. The figure turned to face him and Vegeta gasped.

"What's up?" Bulma asked him.

"What are you doing here?" he growled at her, afraid he was being followed—and he now had this nitwit to deal with.

Bulma laughed at him. Not a brief chuckle, but long uncontrolled laughter and for no reason.

"Stop it," Vegeta told her, but Bulma only clutched her sides and sank down to her knees, turning red from her continuous laughing. Vegeta was beginning to get angry. He strode over and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I said stop it."

The laughter began to lessen, but only so Bulma could speak, "You-- You're so pathetic, heehee." She sank back into her hysterics, leaning heavily against Vegeta. "Hah! You act so tough, but you're really just scared. Hah, hah!"

"Shut up," Vegeta said, trying to shove her away from him, but she was holding tightly to his armor.

Bulma began laughing even harder and knocked both of them over, so they were lying in a tangle on the floor. Vegeta could feel her body pressing against him as she laughed into his ear, "You're so desperate for power, but you're really just a little weakling with nothing left. Hah, hah, hah! A third class peasant accomplished what you spent your whole life trying to do. He's better than you, Vegeta. You're just pathetic."

"Get off of me you lunatic woman!" Vegeta said, trying to shove her off of him, but her fragile body persistently clung to him and he only ended up finding what she felt like under his hands: soft and smooth. Vegeta was startled to discover his hands moving to find out what the rest of her felt like.

"Mmmrow," Bulma said, nuzzling Vegeta's neck.

"What did you say?" Vegeta asked, blinking.

Bulma raised her head, looked him in the eyes and said, "Meow."

Vegeta blinked and instead of Bulma sprawled across his chest he saw the black cat that had been sitting on Dr. Briefs' shoulder that afternoon. The cat licked his nose and Vegeta hollered as he fell off the couch. He hit the floor with a loud crashing sound while the cat gracefully jumped away. Vegeta laid on the carpet in a cold sweat and his heart pounding and his nerves a mess of adrenaline. It was night wherever he was… He was on Earth. He'd had a nightmare. How long had he been asleep?

He looked up and glared at the cat. "You," he growled, pointing accusingly at the cat, "You stupid animal."

The cat's only response was to sniff his finger, then rub its cheek against his hand and begin purring. Vegeta contemplated throwing the cat into a wall, but realized it would be pointless. It would probably upset Bulma.

What concern of his was Bulma, though? Stupid woman—presumptuous, nosey bitch. He rested his head against the couch. It had been a dream. It wasn't real. She hadn't said those things and she hadn't...he hadn't...

He didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone's help. It must have been stress and exhaustion. This never used to be a problem.

A light flicked on in the next room that Bulma's mother had called a kitchen. Vegeta felt the flicker of Bulma's chi approaching.

"Hey, Vegeta? You okay?"

Vegeta clenched his teeth. No, he did not want to see her right now. He didn't want to see her ever again. He had to get out of this place. He got up and hurried over to a glass panel in the wall of the sunroom, perhaps it was a door or a window. There was a handle on it, so it probably opened. Vegeta grabbed the handle and yanked. Nothing happened. He pulled. Nothing. Pushed. Nothing.

"I heard yelling," Bulma yawned, stepping into the room. She was wearing a loose-fitting shirt with her bare legs sticking out and her hair was tousled around her head. He remembered what it had felt like to have her body against his in the dream. He tugged at the door again.

"Oh don't let the cat out, it's an indoor cat."

"I have no idea what you just said," Vegeta told her, still holding onto the door.

"Whatever," Bulma said, picking up the cat. The cat stared stupidly at Vegeta, privy to his embarrassment. "Do you want to sleep in a bed or you fine down here for tonight?"

"I don't care," Vegeta snapped.

" 'Kay," Bulma said, yawning again. She turned to leave. "Good night."

"I want to go outside," Vegeta blurted out.

"Then open the door."

"I-- I don't know how," he admitted.

Bulma's face stayed blank, but she could have just been too sleepy to react. "You unlock it."

Vegeta looked at the door handle to avoid looking at Bulma. "How?"

Bulma walked over, and her hand brushed against his as she flipped a switch under the handle. "There," she said, but didn't walk away. She just stupidly stared Vegeta in the eyes. The cat in her arms' tiny tail swished back and forth between them.

"That will be all," Vegeta said.

Bulma still looked very sleepy but spoke with a hostile tone, "You're welcome."

"Yes," Vegeta said.

Bulma groaned and trudged away, taking the cat away with her and muttering under her breath. Vegeta slid the door open and left.

-- -- --

"Bulma, pookums, we have a problem," Dr. Briefs said. Bulma was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and reading a women's health and fashion magazine.

"I didn't burn your porn collection again," Bulma said without looking up from her magazine.

"Hmm, I wonder what happened to it then-- but that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"I think Mom might have donated it to library," Bulma said, flicking to the next page.

"That's... unfortunate, but that's not the problem."

Bulma put down the magazine, "Well, what is?"

Dr. Briefs held out the phone for her. "Gohan wants to talk to you."

Bulma swiped a mug of coffee and stepped out onto the patio barefoot with the phone tucked under her chin. "Hey, Gohan!"

"Hi, Bulma," said the anxious voice of a child from the other side of the world. Son Gohan was young, jeez, how old was he, seven? Bulma could imagine his hand not completely fitting around the phone. But his voice had a maturity and graveness to it that Bulma knew most adults never developed.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good, how about you, kiddo?"

There was a pause before Gohan spoke in a whisper, "My mom doesn't know I'm calling. I should be studying, but it was really important that I called."

"What's wrong?" Bulma said, putting her mug down on the glass patio table.

"Do you know where Vegeta is?"

"Um, er..." Bulma glanced around the patio; maybe she'd get lucky and Vegeta would be conveniently standing behind a potted plant or an umbrella. Nope. No such luck. "Uh, let me go look for him. By the way, why do you ask?" Bulma asked as she began wandering around her home.

Gohan sighed. "Well, Piccolo noticed that last night Vegeta's chi moved east away from Capsule Corporation, then he disappeared somewhere in the mountains and we haven't been able to find him since."

"Oh," Bulma said, trying to conceal her sheepishness as she vaguely recalled checking on him last night and unlocking a door. He had been acting kind of twitchy. She supposed Vegeta must have wanted some really fresh air. "Well, maybe he came back this morning..." She spotted her mother crouched in her garden, pulling up weeds. Bulma covered the receiver with her hand. "Hey, Mom, have you seen Vegeta this morning?"

"Who?"

"Vegeta!"

"Who?"

"What do you mean who!? Vegeta! The Saiyan Prince! The bad-tempered, spiky-haired man who has threatened to kill us all! He was staying with us."

"Who?" her mother asked, smacking the dirt off of a weed with a spade.

Bulma groaned. "The guy I brought home last night that you kept pouring alcohol down."

"Oh, him. I like him. Have you seen the rose bushes yet? They look great this year."

"Yes, mom, they're very nice, but have you seen Vegeta?"

"Who?"

Bulma screamed and walked away. She asked everyone else she saw as she dashed around the compound. The robots said no and so did the Namekians. Her father shook his head and lit a cigarette. He told her he'd be in the C lab if she needed him. She shouted Vegeta's name a few times, not that she expected him to come when she called him. No one had seen Vegeta since he had arrived last night.

"No one has seen him," she wheezed out of breath into the phone.

"That's not good," Gohan said. "I guess Piccolo and I are going to have to go find him."

"Wait, why?"

"Vegeta's dangerous, Bulma, he can't just wander around wherever he wants."

"But he hasn't done anything to anyone since he got back to Earth, if you exclude being extremely rude."

"Bulma you saw what happened to those villages on Namek. What if he does the same thing here?"

Bulma frowned. "I don't think he will."

"What makes you so sure?" Gohan asked.

"It's just a feeling I have. I don't think he's really as bad as he acts. Besides, if you and Piccolo confront him you're just gonna upset him. I think Vegeta just needs some space. He's been Frieza's puppet his whole life, right? This is the first time he doesn't have a master looming over him; he's probably just enjoying doing what he wants."

"What if that involves hurting people?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to think like your father."

"You think my father would trust Vegeta?"

"I know so." Bulma said. Not that Son-kun's logic in these situations ever made a whole lot of sense, but at the moment Vegeta was the strongest person on the planet. There wasn't a whole lot they could make him do.

-- -- --

Telling Gohan his father would trust Vegeta had reassured Gohan considerably, but Bulma knew that would mean nothing to Piccolo. There just didn't seem like there was a whole lot they could do about it. Bulma had arranged for Capsule Corp. to cover the bill for Gohan's long distance phone call, crossing her fingers that ChiChi wouldn't notice, but knew that she would. Bulma decided to go see her father and see what he was up to. As much as she enjoyed lazing around like she had for nearly the entire trip to Namek she wanted to see what was going on with Capsule Corp. and get some work done.

C Lab was the largest of the four private labs in the Briefs' private home. It had its separate dome off the west end side of the main dome and she had to walk through the tropic garden to get to it. She followed the gravel path through the landscaped foliage to get to the door on the other side. She punched in the code and the door whooshed open. Inside the air was dry and comfortable and she weaved her way through the tables and workbenches to the center of the lab. C Lab was really more of a garage or hangar than a lab. In fact Bulma wasn't sure why her father called them labs. Maybe it stemmed from some childhood desire to be a villain or a super scientist. She wasn't sure.

Dr. Briefs was standing in the shadow of a three-story version of a Saiyan space pod, typing something into a console. He looked up and saw Bulma walking over. "Did you find him?" he asked.

"No... Gohan and Piccolo lost him somewhere around the mountains near where he and Goku fought."

Dr. Briefs began fiddling with a balance stabilizer engine on the table in front of him. "So you're gonna go look for him?"

"No, I think that would just make him angry. I think he needs his space."

"Hmm..." Dr. Briefs said removing the access panel to the stabilizer.

"What?" Bulma asked.

"Oh nothing," Dr. Briefs said. "Could you hand me that Philip's head?"

"You have to say something," Bulma said shoving the screwdriver into her father's hand. "Just come out and say it."

"I think you should go look for him."

"I don't think he wants to be found."

"Why'd you let him stay here, anyway?"

"Because he needed a place to stay."

"It's a big planet, lots of places for him to stay," Dr. Briefs said, glancing up at her as his mustache twitched.

Bulma frowned back at him and propped herself up on her elbows on the table. She looked over the stabilizer engine. "What are you doing with this thing?"

"It's for the CC Space pod Mark II," Dr. Briefs replied. "I wish we could have gotten back the Mark I from Namek. I was really counting on the data it was collecting. It sent back some, but not nearly as much as I had hoped."

Bulma poked at the power channel tubing to check what material it was made with and how it had been spaced to prevent overheating. "How did it go?"

"Well it got Goku there and that boy couldn't pilot his way out of a paper bag unless you put food outside it, so I'd say it was a success. The gravity machine worked far better than I thought it would. It shorted out a few times, exposure to strong magnetic fields and the stability goes to pot."

"So Son-kun increased his physical strength by working in intense gravity?"

"I think he said he got it as high as one hundred times Earth gravity," Dr. Briefs remarked.

Bulma whistled. "And he didn't pancake?"

"Saiyan physiology seems to be more resilient than human as time has proven."

"They get stronger after they recover from injuries. If it doesn't kill them it makes them stronger."

"The same could be said of any living creature," Dr. Briefs said with a shrug.

"No literally, they get much stronger. I wonder if the laws of the way a Saiyan interacts and reacts to their milieu is radically different than the way something from Earth does. There were three aliens on Namek that could transform and then transform back to react to the situation. Frieza transformed three different times. Goku's hair and eyes changed color and I think the way his chi flowed changed, too. At least that's what Vegeta, Gohan, and Piccolo said. Do you know of anything on Earth that does that? Everything on Earth just evolves from generation to generation and only the traits that survive get passed on. But were those alien transformations genetic or reactions to the situation?"

"That's interesting, Bulma, but we're not biologists."

Bulma rested her chin in her hand. "Too bad, huh?" She began scrolling and clicking through the data in the console about the gravity machine. "So any idea on how to solve the magnetic problem?"

"I haven't really thought about it. The Mark II doesn't have the same gravity training set up."

"Is the Mark II for Vegeta?"

Dr. Briefs looked up. "Is Vegeta leaving?"

Bulma shrugged. "He's waiting for Goku."

"Heaven help us when Goku gets back."

"So who is the Mark II for?" Bulma asked.

Dr. Briefs shrugged. "I just wanted another spaceship. I might take your mother to Saturn for our anniversary."

Either he was being his usual flakey self or he actually had some greater scheme in mind, which he had been known to do. Bulma sighed, rolled her eyes and stood up straight. "I'm going to work on some of the government contracts, I'll see you at dinner."

"Bulma, go look for him. He needs a friend," Dr. Briefs said as he put the access panel back on the stabilizer.

Bulma snorted with disbelief and threw her hands up in the air. "Why are you pushing this?"

Dr. Briefs snuffed his cigarette out in an ashtray on the table. "Because you like him."

"I do not like him! I feel sorry for him!" Bulma huffed. "Its because I'm such a kind and compassionate person! If anything I should hate him for what he did to Yamcha!"

"Bulma..." Dr. Briefs attempting to calm his daughter down, but she had already dramatically stomped out of the hangar.


	3. Clever Girl

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story up to this point! And a tremendous thank you to my beta reader and bestest friend Marie Goos. :B

On 8/10/2009 this chapter was updated.

Disclaimer: I do not own or am in any way affiliated with the DragonBall franchise.

-- --- -- --- --

Bulma usually felt better when she was working in her workshop. It cleared her mind, relaxed her, and helped her put things in perspective. It was not helping today. Maybe she was still exhausted after all that Namek business. She tossed the tool she had been using across the table. It didn't seem like the government would be getting their jet packs any time soon.

"He said he didn't want my help," she told the machine on her desk. The machine responded with empathetic silence. Bulma resisted the urge to find her cell phone and call her friends—most of her friends were dead at the moment. Bulma chewed on her lip. Go find the prissy prince and bring him back to Capsule Corporation or leave him alone and exposed to the natural elements.

"Oh hell, why not?" she said, standing up, "Besides, he's funny when he's agitated."

She rummaged around and found her capsule case and double-checked what she had packed. Two boats, two airplanes, two airships, some vehicles including her favorite hover bike and motorcycle, and a house capsule just incase. She changed into shorts, a lavender tank top, hiking boots, and a green canvas vest that she tucked her capsule case into. And because she wasn't dumb, or perhaps just violent in nature, her holster belt with a handgun.

She debated on whether or not she should take Dende along. But then again, if Piccolo and Gohan couldn't find him, what were the odds that Dende would be able to? Besides, she didn't really feel like having company. She regretted not rebuilding a scouter when she had the chance; oh well.

Bulma wandered outside to find her mother sunning herself in a red polka dot swimsuit and high heels by the pool, sipping a Manhattan. A stereo system nearby was playing big band jazz and she was tapping her pedicured toes to the beat.

"Mom, its only twelve-thirty," Bulma scolded.

"Mmhmm," Mrs. Briefs said, taking a long drag from the straw, "Perfect time for a cocktail."

"I'm going to find Vegeta," Bulma said, pulling out her capsules.

"Okey dokey," Mrs. Briefs said, "Bring me back a hot man."

Bulma rolled her eyes and mashed down the button on the capsule and tossed it towards the lawn. There was a loud 'poi' sound and an airship appeared on the lawn. "I don't know if I'll be back for dinner," she shouted to her mother as she climbed in and started flipping switches to start up the rotators.

"Be back in time for dinner, sweetie!" her mother called over the roar of the engines.

-- -- --

After two and a half hours of circling mountains Bulma was starting to loathe her playlist of upbeat girl-power songs. It had taken her two hours alone to reach the mountain range where Piccolo had lost track of Vegeta's chi, according to Gohan. "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" was really starting to lose its charm.

Trying to find Vegeta without a trail of smoking destruction to follow was proving to be difficult, not that she had expected it to be easy. She tried to narrow her search down to locations that would have water readily available and game for him to eat and hunt. He would probably also choose some place where it would be hard to spot him from the air. That still left her with about a million places to look. She set up a grid over her GPS map and began checking off areas as she searched them. Thermal sensors weren't picking up much, either. Just some goats, birds, and one strangely warm rock that she had to double check.

Her search took her slowly eastward with absolutely no results. By the time she had reached the last grid on her map she was ready to give up. She had reached the end of the chain of mountains and was on the edge of the Diablo Desert and from her experience no one wandered into there unless they knew what they were doing or were completely stupid. She was willing to believe Vegeta was not completely stupid for now.

Bulma groaned and pressed a button to bring up the airship's phone. Time to call in the professionals, and by professionals she meant Gohan. Just as she was about to hit the send button she saw a flock of large white birds fly out of a ravine. It was worth a try. She guided the airship over to where the birds had come from and lowered it down into the ravine.

The rock walls were made of yellow sandstone and had been worn smooth by annual flooding. It was full of bristly bushes covered with their summer greenery and boulders that had been dragged through the riverbed by the floods.

Bulma shut down the airship and jumped out. She took a few steps away before she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Hey Veeeeeeeeegeeeeeetaaaaaa?"

The sound of her own voice echoing off the ravine walls was all she heard.

"Well, damn," she said under he breath. She heard a snort and felt a gust of hot air on her back. She looked behind her and her eyes widened in fear. "You're not Vegeta."

-- -- --

A loud cracking sound woke Vegeta up. It was then followed by two more. Vegeta grunted and decided to go back to sleep. He was resting against a pile of boulders in a deep ravine trying to get some much needed rest when he realized the ground was trembling. A loud echoing scream bounced off the ravine walls and caused him to open his eyes and jump off the boulder. Its sounded like...

"Bulma?" he groaned as he saw the aqua-haired woman appear around a bend in the ravine, scrambling over rocks in his direction.

How did she find him? He flew half way around the planet to get away from her and she found him. And what the hell was she doing?

Bulma spotted him and began running towards him. "Run! Run!" she screamed.

"What is wrong with you?" Vegeta growled as she dashed by him. She grabbed his wrist to drag him along behind her, but failed miserably. She was stopped short when Vegeta didn't move to follow her and she fell backward, landing on her behind.

"We have to go!" she wailed.

"Why should I?"

There was an ear splitting roar as a four-story raptor-like reptile appeared from the direction Bulma had come from. When it saw the two of them it opened its massive fanged mouth and roared, wriggling its tiny hands that were in front of its torso. It lowered its head and began to charge them.

Bulma crouched and whipped a firearm out of her belt, took aim, and fired three rounds at the approaching monster. One missed, one nicked its shoulder, and the other hit it in the face. The monster only roared and kept charging.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you," Bulma told him as she stood up then sprinted away down the riverbed.

Vegeta turned to face the monster. As its snout came close to him he side-stepped it and shifted his weight to his back leg. He swung his front leg up and around to block the snout and kick it down to the ground. The monster lost balance and tripped, crashing into the ravine floor. Vegeta jumped aside as the monster's momentum slid it across uneven ground and it collided with a large boulder, stopping it short. The monster's tail twitched a little and went limp. Vegeta laughed and decided to fly away to find out where Bulma had ended up.

He found her still running as fast as her shapely legs could take her, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was still being followed. Vegeta landed in front of her and she crashed into him. She looked in front of her with enough time to have a panicked expression on her face before she began to topple backwards. Without thinking about it, Vegeta reached out and caught her briefly, holding her against his chest. He quickly released her as soon as she regained her balance and he realized what he had done.

"Did you kill it?" Bulma asked, flushed and out of breath from running.

Vegeta shrugged. "I kicked it and it stopped moving."

Bulma let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad I found you. I've been--" Bulma was interrupted when the ground began shake again. "Why me!?" she wailed.

The monster was stomping towards them, but much slower and wobbling ever so slightly. Bulma pulled out her gun and fired again. Nothing happened. She pulled the trigger a few times only to get a clicking sound.

"Oh, screw this!" she cried and threw the gun at the monster. The gun bounced off its nose. It did not look like this development had improved its mood.

"Vegeta, kick this thing's ass!" she shouted at him.

"No," he said nonchalantly.

"Why not!?" Bulma whined.

"I don't take orders."

Bulma wailed in terror, "What about requests!?"

Vegeta shook his head smiling, "No."

"But I'm too pretty to die," she sniffled.

The monster slowly advanced on them.

"You might survive, but I won't! Don't you care?" Bulma asked him, searching his face for some sort of hint of what he was thinking.

Vegeta was enjoying this far too much to betray what he was really thinking to her. People were always so entertaining when they thought they were about to die. The pleading, the begging, the threats, he wanted to see what Bulma would do.

An ear splitting roar broke the silence between them. Bulma and Vegeta both looked back at the dinosaur. The roar was followed by two smaller yelps and two miniature versions of the monster appeared running around the big monster's legs.

"Oh," Bulma exclaimed and clasped her hands together, "That's why it attacked me. It's a mommy dinosaur."

Vegeta rolled his eyes when he saw the excited expression on her face as she watched the little monsters scamper around. One minute she was screaming for her life the next she was cooing over a load of sentimental rubbish. How she was still alive was beyond his reckoning.

The monster roared at them again. Vegeta raised his arm and began charging ki in his palm to throw at the monster.

"Wait, don't kill her," Bulma pleaded, "She's just protecting her kids."

"Who cares?" Vegeta barked, "If I don't kill it, it's going to kill both of us."

"Can't we just fly away?"

"I can fly away. What are you going to do flap your arms and jump?" Vegeta said smirking at his own bad joke.

"You could carry me," Bulma suggested hopefully.

"The Prince of the Saiyans carries no one," Vegeta said beginning to levitate off the ground, "I would rather just kill it."

The dinosaur roared once more and began moving in on them. Tears began to well up in the corners of Bulma's eyes.

"I was going to let you eat as much as you want and have your own bathroom," she sobbed referring to her invitation to stay at her home.

She was so helpless and all she did was whine. Vegeta could not figure out why any one kept her around. She was attractive, but definitely not worth the trouble she caused. If Vegeta looked at it that way he was doing the Earth a favor letting her get eaten by a giant lizard.

Bulma whimpered, "I had so many plans for my life."

"Oh, fine," Vegeta groaned as he wrapped his arm around Bulma's waist and lifted her into the air with him, "You've been a thorn in my side since I first laid eyes on you." She wrapped her arms around him and they flew out of the ravine and into the desert.

"Thanks," she said when she finally stopped crying.

"What for?" Vegeta snapped.

"For not killing it."

"Pff."

"And for saving me," she said squeezing her arms around him tighter.

"Don't do that again or I'll drop you!" Vegeta sputtered.

"Hey!" Bulma shouted in his ear causing Vegeta to wince, "Put us down!"

Vegeta descended and landed near an enormous pile of rubble in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here, just some strange tall slender rocks and pile of rubble. He had no idea what was so special about this particular pile of rocks. It looked like every other pile of rocks and Vegeta had seen many rock piles. He supposed that the rubble might have been a building a long time ago, but they were closer to resembling a hill more than a man-made structure.

Bulma let go of him and walked away to get a closer look at the crumbling ruins. "Wow, I can't believe this is still here…"

"What is it?" Vegeta asked trying to figure out what she could possibly find so interesting. He sat down on a nearby rock. Maybe he would get lucky and she would find another giant lizard, hopefully one that was faster and would eat her before she started yelping for help again.

"Pilaf's castle. He was trying to collect the dragon balls at the same time we were, so he could rule the world. That's how I met Son-kun and Yamcha," Bulma said, grinning fondly.

Vegeta felt a twinge of jealousy for the way she fondly referred to her imbecile friends.

"What was it we were wishing for... Yamcha wanted to get over his fear of girls, which he got over pretty freaking quickly, the jerk. I wanted a boyfriend, and Goku just wanted to see the dragon. It was actually just Oolong who got his wish," Bulma said with a snicker.

"What did he wish for?" Vegeta asked, sounding bored.

"A hot girl's panties. I wonder whose they were…" Bulma said with a shrug. "The world will never know the young woman whose brave sacrifice saved us from the tyranny of a little blue man."

Vegeta thought for a moment before speaking. "What are panties?"

Bulma laughed. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't," Vegeta snapped growing annoyed and embarrassed.

Bulma snickered and slid her shorts down past her hips before Vegeta could react. "These," she hooked a finger through a strip of fuchsia and flashed him a fabric garment she wore concealed beneath her clothes.

Vegeta stared dumbfounded for a moment before he turned away and began to turn the same color as the 'panties'.

"Aw, come on," Bulma said, pulling her shorts back up, "I bet a stud like you has seen tons of alien cooch."

Vegeta could guess what she meant by _that_. "Where I'm from, females have a sense of propriety and don't go around soliciting men they don't know with their erotic garments!"

"Did you just call my underwear erotic?" Bulma asked gleefully. "These aren't even the lacy ones."

"I saw the way you were trying to throw yourself at Zarbon on Namek. And judging from the way your bald friend, Krillin, reacted I bet you do it all the time."

Bulma thought for a moment, recalling all the men, who were usually antagonistic, she and her friends had met on their misadventures. Yes, she was pretty sure she had swooned over all of them. Vegeta had called it.

She clutched her hands to her face, mostly mockingly, and cooed, "Golly, Vegeta, I think I just have a bad boy complex."

"Good luck with that. It's probably going to get you killed," Vegeta replied flippantly.

Bulma giggled. "I'm just kidding. I have Yamcha. We've got our problems, but…" She sighed and got a far away look in her eyes, "He's my soul mate."

Vegeta turned away and Bulma didn't see his expression. Bulma only noticed that she was losing her audience to one of his broodfests and decided that wasn't happening. She sat down and sidled up to Vegeta on the rock. "So... How many alien chicks have you seen naked?"

"I am not answering that," Vegeta replied, disgusted.

"You can include pornography. I won't judge you."

Vegeta looked her in the eyes. "You are a crass, loud woman and I find you repugnant."

Bulma was very inwardly amused that Vegeta had known what the Earth word for pornography was, but she wasn't going to let him get away with the insult. "I think you're a prudish snob and a jerk and you _really_ need to lighten up. I'm betting, ah, you've been across the galaxy at least twice going from port to port, oh, twenty-five ladies," Bulma said, suggesting a number she thought was conservative to some, yet offensive to others. She was curious to see what category Vegeta fell into.

Vegeta rolled his eyes.

Bulma exclaimed curiously. "Were they not ladies? I suspect that you do work closely with only men. Space is cold; did you find warmth in the embrace of your male comrades?"

Vegeta scowled at her and shook his head.

"Come on," Bulma pleaded.

"How many men have you seen naked?" Vegeta snarled. She liked talking about herself, maybe she would just start talking and let the topic die on its own.

Bulma began counting on her fingers, but by the time she started counting on her right hand a second time Vegeta snapped at her to stop.

"I didn't sleep with all of them," she said sheepishly. In fact she hadn't even come close to sleeping with half of them. Two of the ones she had seen had been Krillin and Goku. Krillin still got upset if she brought it up. "What about you?"

Vegeta groaned, "I'm not answering your question." He stood and started walking towards the ruins. Bulma got up and started following him.

"What happened to whatever you said his name was? After he didn't get his wish," Vegeta said, nudging part of a wall with his boot.

"Well, he put us in a jail cell we couldn't get out of, but had a glass dome at the top, I think it was supposed to cook us when the sun came out," Bulma said, trying to remember what had happened that night. She remembered falling asleep against Yamcha. She remembered what had happened after that... the hand-holding, the first kisses, the giddy head rush of being in love. She remembered how embarrassed Yamcha had been when he confessed to her he had always wanted to be married. She had thought it had been cute that a guy wanted to get married so badly, but she didn't really want to think about getting married to any one even if she had been with Yamcha for forever.

"Then what?" Vegeta asked, kicking the wall over. Bulma jumped, startled by the loud noise and all the dust the wall kicked up.

"Well it was night and there was a full moon and Goku started to tell us this story about a giant monster that used to appear at the mountain where he lived when the moon was full..." Bulma trailed off, frowning. Vegeta began laughing.

"It wasn't funny, we were nearly crushed to death!"

"Well, that's the point of it isn't it? We sent Saiyans to different planets so they could destroy and crush all the inhabitants there."

Bulma's eyes narrowed and her tone became dark. "You know Goku accidentally killed his own grandfather, the man who adopted him, and he never even knew it until your stupid friend Raditz told him. Then he kidnapped Gohan and said he would only get to live if Goku killed a hundred people! How can you think something like that is funny or even acceptable?"

"Only a hundred?"

"How can you act like all your remorseless destruction is a good thing?"

"What you call remorseless destruction is what my entire life, my entire culture is built on. You should give it and me more respect because I could wipe out you, everyone, and everything you ever loved in an instant."

"You already killed my boyfriend!"

Vegeta thought for a moment. "Which one was one was he?" he asked.

Bulma's face contorted into an angry expression. No the overreacting indignation he was becoming use to seeing her spew around, but genuine anger and hate.

"Do you even comprehend the value of life? That dinosaur in the valley would have killed us, but it would have done it to protect its babies. What do you fight and kill for, hmm? Nothing, Vegeta, nothing!"

Her words struck him like a slap in the face. That was what she had said in his dream wasn't it? He was nothing, he was pathetic. What was it that he fought for?

"I fight for myself," he said, "It's all I have, it's all I've ever had, and it's all that I need!"

"I can't believe I came out here because I cared about what happened to you!" Bulma said, reaching into her vest and removing a hard case.

Irritated Vegeta snarled, "How many times do I have to tell you I don't want your help or your pity, you stupid cow!"

Bulma was seething, "Oh, believe me Vegeta, all I have left for you is pity and a monster like you doesn't even deserve that," she yelled as she pulled something out of a case, pressed a button on it, then threw it at him. Vegeta jumped away as a vehicle appeared where he had just been standing.

"You owe me an airship, jackass," Bulma said climbing into the vehicle.

Vegeta watched as she lifted the craft off the ground and it flew away. Good riddance; finally she was gone. He told himself he was relieved.


	4. Somewhere Out There

-- --- -- --- --

Author's Notes: I have good news! I updated! I also have bad news… How do I say this without making you too angry…? I edited the previous chapters a little? Alterations that are not drastic, but not entirely minor. Some dialog, actions, and reactions were changed, but the outcome was the mostly same. Yes, I know I'm a terrible human being for doing that to you, but I know you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me. I think they were good changes. Don't feel obligated to read the changes if you don't want to. Here's what I did:

-Made Vegeta take a few more shots in Chapter 1

(For the record Mrs. Briefs gave him seven Long Island Ice Teas, five Cosmopolitans, and six Jager Bombs.)

-Added to the beginning of Chapter 2

-Dialog and action changes to the dinosaur scene in Chapter 3

-Some dialog in fight at the end of Chapter 3 (I recommend you at least skim this.)

Your patience with my changes is _greatly appreciated_.

I also changed the summary in case you didn't notice because the old one was getting dated. It will be missed.

_If you started reading this story after 10/06/2009 date then disregard this note. You have read the updated version._

-- --- -- --- --

Bulma arrived back at Capsule Corp exhausted and defeated. What had she expected Vegeta to do? He had already made it quite clear to her he didn't want any of her help _ever_. Any bit of kindness she showed him he just threw back in her face. She thought if she kept at it he might change, but even if that was true, she didn't care anymore. He had hurt people close to her and obviously felt no guilt about it. That asshole could just sit in the desert and sunburn for all she cared now.

It was close to one in the morning and most of the lights in the house were out; Bulma fervently hoped that her mother hadn't rearranged the furniture too much since she had been to Namek. These hopes were quickly toppled as Bulma walked into an armchair, banging her knee. Cursing her terrible luck, she made her way further through the large dark house until she found a single light in the living room from Mrs. Briefs' favorite lamp. Bulma followed the light and found her mother reading on a couch with Dr. Briefs slumped against her shoulder, sleeping. Her mother was sheathed in a light pink, see-through robe and wearing a lacy, but modest nightgown beneath that. Her father was still wearing what he wore that day and perhaps the day before that. All his clothes had a rumpled, slept-in look to them, so it was difficult to tell.

Bulma smiled. They were certifiably insane, but she really loved these two. Her mother looked up when she saw Bulma approaching. Talking to Mrs. Briefs usually cheered Bulma up. She seemed to only see the bright side of things and if she couldn't make you see them too she gave you enough baked goods or liquor to forget your troubles.

"Hi, sweetness, weren't you bringing someone back?"

"I forgot he was a murderous asshole," Bulma said, referring the absent prince. She scowled and flopped into an armchair, causing a small dust cloud to rise off her clothes. She noticed the ashtray on the table was full of grey ash and cigarette butts and she wondered if her father had been chain smoking while waiting for her to get back.

"Oh, dear, you tend to do that."

"Um, I do?"

Her mother put her book down gently so as not her disturb her husband. "You jump to these conclusions about what men are going to be like and they never live up to your expectations of what you want them to be."

"I'm an inventor. Of course I have ideas about the way things should be." Bulma spoke tartly, but was unsure of what her mother was driving at.

"Men aren't machines. You can't build them into what you want them to be."

Her father snored against her mother's shoulder, interrupting Bulma asking exactly what her mother was not so subtly hinting at. Bulma looked at her sleeping father.

Bulma often wondered how an odd couple like her parents ended up together. Her mother was so glamorous and her father was so… not. He slouched, chain smoked, and rode a bicycle indoors-- among other eccentric habits. Although she was a homemaker now, Bulma knew her mother once did modeling work, had her picture in papers, and went to parties with movie stars almost every night. The extent to which she still lived her once fabulous life style was to help Bulma pick hair styles, clothes, and make up whenever she had to do the whole rich heiress routine.

"What about Dad made you marry him?" Bulma asked her mother.

Her mother dodged the question by shaking Dr. Briefs awake. "I'm pretty sleepy and you've had a long day," she said. "How about I tell you some other time?"

Bulma was going to ask why her mother didn't want to answer that question, but her father was awake.

"Welcome back, pumpkin. Did you find, Vegeta?" he asked, yawning.

"Yes," Bulma said, her tone glum now that she was reminded of the prince of the jerk offs.

He looked around. "Where is he?"

Bulma shook her head. "I found him, he offended me, I yelled at him, threw an airship at him, then left him in the desert. I behaved very maturely."

"Oh well," Dr. Briefs said, rising slowly; Bulma heard his knees pop ever so slightly as he stood. "He'll come back eventually… We have the dragon balls and I am the only person on the planet with a spaceship. That is, unless he likes it here."

-- -- --

Vegeta did not like it here. He suspected there was something in the air on this planet that made it feel like his sinuses were being crushed. He'd had a perpetual headache since he had returned to this miserable excuse of a terrestrial class three dust ball. He ignored the pain. He was good at ignoring distractions.

Vegeta had made a camp, though it was barely that, under an overhanging cliff face of one of the many collections of rocks in the desert. It wasn't the desert where he had encountered Bulma; this was north of that and had more vegetation than the wasteland with the castle, but it was still arid. He had been there nearly a week and was not disappointed to admit he would have to leave it soon. Game was becoming scarce and he was getting sick of the arid climate.

The only thing his present base camp had going for it was the view. There was a cliff face on one of the mountains in the valley with several ledges with overhangs in it. Vegeta had chosen the largest to sleep, eat, and think on. From his vantage point in the cliffs he could see the entire valley he had stopped in. He could watch storm clouds break over the peaks of the mountains in the distance or watch the weather patterns in the entire valley shift and change. He could also watch the herds of four legged mammals he had taken to preying on as they grazed on the terse and spunky grass that grew in patches intermittently across the valley floor.

He was sitting barefoot and gloveless with the legs and sleeves of his jump suit rolled up to his calves and forearms. He had removed his armor, which was so damaged it was hardly useful any more. It was too hot to be covered up from neck to toe and there was really no point in keeping up appearances. He scratched under his chin and realized the stubble was becoming a beard. He also realized that he didn't care. He curled his toes against the sandstone, trying to remember the last time he had been able to relax without looking over his shoulder for a backstabber. It had been a very long time, maybe not since Garula.

There seemed to be a storm growing from the collision of the day's hot air and the cool evening air. Vegeta didn't mind much; the storm would take the edge off the day's heat, but if the storm was on his side of the valley and if the wind was strong enough and the rain didn't evaporate before it hit the earth, it would blow into his pseudo-cave and make everything damp. It wasn't a problem, just a nuisance— like some other things. He knew he was being watched. Not literally watched, but someone was carefully watching what he did with his chi. Vegeta had greatly improved his ability to sense chi on Namek, but he knew it was still not perfect. He knew someone was there, someone very good at concealing their own chi. He was sure it was the Namekian, Piccolo. He couldn't feel the presence of his chi distinctly; he only felt something faint hovering, perhaps five hundred kilometers always north or to the west of him. The chi was controlled, but radiated power waiting to be used. It reminded him of the storm clouds.

When he had first noticed the chi he had tried to discern the source, but whenever he was getting close it would vanish only to reappear a few hours or a day later. Vegeta continued trying to find Piccolo, assuming it was indeed Piccolo, but the slug continued to vanish whenever Vegeta came close. Despite his frustration, there was nothing for him to do but tolerate the energy lurking in the distance.

Unfortunately for Vegeta, Piccolo wasn't looking for a fight. How was he supposed to stay in shape to kill Kakarrot when he returned to Earth?

Vegeta sneezed then groaned loudly. He did not like it here.

-- -- --

Bulma kept herself busy working with her father on the spaceship or some other new designs for the next several days and tried not to think about Vegeta or Yamcha. It was such a relief to be able to do something after spending weeks cooped up in a spaceship flying to Namek or hiding from crazy aliens with nothing to do forever on that rock. There was no point in mourning Yamcha; in a few months he would be back and everything would be wonderful again. However, when Bulma was repairing something or working on a new invention her thoughts would drift and she would find herself wondering what Vegeta was up to.

Two weeks after he had called Bulma about Vegeta missing, Gohan managed to escape his rigid schooling schedule and come by to visit Dende and Bulma. The one condition was that his mother accompanied him. She had expressed some concern about Gohan disappearing to another alien planet.

When the air car landed Gohan kissed his mother on the cheek and dashed out of the car to meet Dende. He waved a greeting to Bulma as he joined the Namekian children in the yard. ChiChi watched him run away, trying to shout words of caution after him, but they seemed to be lost on the boy. ChiChi looked…downtrodden, Bulma decided, as the single mother stepped out of the air car.

Bulma did not know ChiChi _that_ well. In fact, she had only met her a handful of times and those had only been occasions when she was looking for Gohan or escorting him around. ChiChi behaved very differently than the girl she had been six years ago. She had cornered Goku at the world martial arts tournament, reminding him of his childhood promise to marry her. Bulma had trouble believing the excited young girl who was swept away on a cloud with Goku had become the high-strung woman she was now.

From what Bulma had gathered from Oolong, Yamcha, the Turtle Hermit, and Goku had said about her, ChiChi was mildly psychotic and prone to unexpected outbursts of violence. She had unnecessarily attacked the Turtle Hermit with some sort of blade to test his identity, she had tried to shoot Yamcha with a laser weapon, she routinely smacked Goku with a cast iron skillet (probably an ineffective weapon on him), but Oolong still thought she was a "babe." Goku had explained that he lived a good deal of his time with her in fear of upsetting her.

ChiChi was standing awkwardly next to her car, watching with concern as Gohan started a game of freeze tag with the other boys.

"Hey, ChiChi," Bulma said, walking up.

"Oh, hi Bulma," ChiChi said uncertainly. Bulma could not tell if she looked uncomfortable because the two had never spoken alone before, or if when ChiChi wasn't screaming at her husband or son she was actually shy.

"You want some tea? My mother set a tray up on the porch."

ChiChi twisted her hands and glanced at Gohan, who was running and laughing.

_Sheesh, lady, I think he can handle freeze tag. He is Goku's son, _Bulma thought. Instead she said, "We have a good view of the yard from the porch."

"Then yes," she said with the formal manners of an unfamiliar guest. "Tea would be… nice."

"So how was the ride over?" Bulma asked, leading the way to the porch.

"Oh… uneventful," ChiChi said. "Thank you for letting Gohan come over," she continued as they both sat down at the table.

"You're welcome. He's a great kid; I'm glad you let him take a break from his school work," Bulma replied as she passed over a saucer and cup.

ChiChi frowned. "He tricked me. He said this was a study group."

"Oh," Bulma said, trying to work up some sympathy. She thought ChiChi was more than a little heavy-handed with the schooling. When Gohan had returned from Namek he had asked Bulma if he could hide at Capsule Corp until he finished his homework. She had talked him out of it, since she didn't want ChiChi coming after her when she found out her son was on Earth and at Bulma's house. When your children were scared to come home you were doing something wrong.

ChiChi's lower lip began to tremble. "I'm just so worried he's going to become a good-for-nothing deadbeat like his father."

Bulma was preparing to defend Goku when ChiChi's shoulders began to shake and she started to sob.

_Oh, gosh…_ Bulma thought. This was unexpected. She snatched up a bunch of napkins from the table and began handing them to ChiChi and looked around to make sure Gohan couldn't see them. She didn't think it would be very healthy for Gohan to see his mother crying.

"I really don't think growing up to be like Goku would really be a bad thing," Bulma said. "You should be proud to have him as a husband. I mean, he's the bravest, most morally upright human-- er, I mean-- person I know." Definitely the most morally upright Saiyan she knew.

"What good is that when you're never there for your family?" ChiChi sobbed and blew her nose loudly into a napkin.

"Maybe when Goku comes back you should tell him how unhappy you are."

"All of my life I just wanted to be a good wife to my husband," she let out an especially loud wail. "I just picked a terrible husband."

Bulma decided it would be unwise to remind ChiChi it served her right for tricking her husband into marrying her. "If you're that unhappy… You could always leave him…" she suggested.

"What are you, crazy!?" ChiChi shook her head. "I couldn't do that. It's just his nature. You know, you've known him longer than I have."

"I certainly have…" Bulma sighed.

ChiChi began drying her eyes. "I'm just frustrated. I feel like I'm raising Gohan by myself even when Goku is around."

Bulma felt terrible for ChiChi, not because she was grieving her missing husband (although she did feel bad about that), but because she had centered her life on a husband. Bulma constantly shrugged off Yamcha's suggestions for marriage in the future, citing his unfaithfulness; the truth was, she was scared to get married. She would spend a small fortune on a meaningless ceremony, then be expected to take care of him, raise his children, and adjust her whole life so he was the center of her universe. Bulma knew that it wasn't supposed to be that way, but she could think of many women whose marriages were not like that. They would end up like ChiChi, stuck with a man no matter what they did because they wanted to get married.

At the same time, Bulma couldn't help but feel a little bit like ChiChi didn't deserve Goku.

ChiChi took several deep steadying breaths. "I think I'm okay now."

"I'm glad…" Bulma said awkwardly. "Any time you need to talk, I'm here."

"Thank you, Bulma," ChiChi said sincerely and smiled at her.

-- -- --

Bulma had spent the afternoon talking with ChiChi about their respective lives. She decided she found ChiChi overbearing, but she did appreciate how honest she could be, although she was very blunt about it. ChiChi wasn't malicious, although she was bad-tempered; she was just very naive. Bulma had learned ChiChi had never gone to high school; this afternoon was only the third time she had been to a major city; the only boy she had ever dated was Goku (that thing about her and Yamcha was total nonsense and Bulma knew it); she loved cooking and reading; and had never spent more than an hour with other girls her age. Bulma realized almost everything ChiChi knew she had learned from magazines or books.

"I am never getting married," Bulma said after dinner when Gohan and ChiChi had left.

"Oh, why's that?" Mrs. Brief's asked, rubbing a dishcloth with a rooster print on it over a plate. There was something wrong with the robot that did the dishes, so they were stuck washing the plates from dinner on their own. It was turning out to be not so bad as Bulma had initially thought it would be. She was washing, her mother drying. Mrs. Briefs didn't want to ruin her manicure.

"Women just pick some guy they meet, then they marry him and spend the rest of their lives unhappy because they grew apart. Like how ChiChi met Goku and decided to marry him," she explained, putting a clean dripping wet dish in the drying rack for her mother. "Now she's stuck with him."

"Sounds exactly like you," Mrs. Briefs said off-handedly, putting a plate in the cupboard.

"What do you mean by that!?" Bulma exclaimed.

Mrs. Briefs sighed and picked up another dish. Bulma could see she wasn't going to elaborate without some prodding.

"You can't say something like that and not expect to give an explanation."

"Well, it sounds hypocritical… Accusing someone of picking up a guy she met, like, oh… In the desert, then spending the rest of their lives unhappy because they're always fighting and breaking up, but refuse to leave each other."

Bulma froze with disbelief, then repeated everything her mother had just said in her head. "Are you talking about Yamcha and me?"

After the clink of the plate being placed on top of another plate came her mother's reply. "Well, d'uh."

"We're different. He and I have taken time apart and we've realized that we're happy together. We're prefect!"

"Sweetie, there's no such thing as perfect. Especially with relationships."

"Well maybe he and I are," Bulma sniffed, sticking her nose up in the air.

"Okay, sweetheart," her mother said. "Then why don't you marry him?"

"I love him, but I don't want to marry him. He wants the white picket fence and a cute little house with me inside pregnant and barefoot making him dinner. Married women have that sort of thing forced on them all the time. What I want is more important than starting a family."

Mrs. Briefs put down the dish she was drying. "For some women, having a family is what they want. You shouldn't be so dismissive, you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for women like that."

"Mom, that's not what I meant…"

"That's exactly what you meant, Bulma. And I think raising a child into an adult is just as admirable as following your own interests."

Bulma bit her lip. She supposed that was what she _had_ meant after all. Maybe some people just weren't meant to get married. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Her mother grinned. "It's okay, sweetheart, you're young and stupid."

Bulma groaned and the two continued washing dishes. When her mother was putting away the last dish Bulma spoke again. "You think ChiChi tricked Goku into marrying her? Do you think he'd be happier if he wasn't tied down?"

Her mother walked over to Bulma and patted her on the cheek. "Have you known Goku to be anything but happy? Besides, I don't think it's any of your business."

She supposed it wasn't. Bulma stared at the floor, thinking. "Do Yamcha and I really have that many problems?"

"You two spend more time apart than together," her mother pointed out as she hung up the dishcloth.

"But I love him."

Her mother smiled. "Then maybe that's all that matters." Mrs. Briefs kissed her daughter goodnight and left to change for bed, leaving Bulma standing alone in the kitchen.

Bulma sighed. She was unsure of what to do. She didn't feel like continuing any work for Capsule Corp. tonight, or watching TV, or reading, or doing anything. Damn, she wished Yamcha were here.

Bulma opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out one of her father's packs of cigarettes and lighters and went out on the porch. She wasn't a habitual smoker, just occasionally, when she was bored or stressed out. Plus, she knew it made her look cool, even though her mother nagged her that if Bulma kept smoking she was going to have skin like a crocodile handbag and the voice of a man by the time she was fifty. That was discouraging, Bulma thought as she stood next to the railing and lit up.

When she exhaled the first lung-full of smoke she wished all her worries would leave with it. As she watched the smoke dissipate into the air above her, she began looking for stars in the sky. It was a clear night, but the city lights blocked out most of the stars and Bulma was upset that she could see only the brightest ones. She knew the star that was Namek's sun was somewhere in the west sky right now, but that was so far away that it wasn't visible in the city, with or without a telescope. She lay down on her back on the porch and stamped out the cigarette next to her.

She wondered which one was the star for the Saiyan home world. They said it was destroyed, wasn't it? Where did Vegeta go when he wasn't fighting if he didn't have a home planet? Maybe he never stopped fighting because he didn't want to go back to a place that wasn't his home.

Which star was Goku near?

Somewhere out there was her friend. She hoped he was okay.

"Goku, come home," Bulma said aloud.

Wherever Vegeta was right now he could probably see all the stars. Bulma wondered if he was looking up at them and thinking the same thing she was thinking.


	5. King Without a Kingdom

-- --- -- --- --

Author's Notes: I love each and every one of you. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy the chapter!

-- --- -- --- --

The Namekian had been following him for a week and Vegeta was quite sick of his constant lurking. He was at a disadvantage; the slug had lived his whole life on this planet and Vegeta had only been here for eighteen and a half days. Vegeta shivered against the cold threatening to overcome him. He had traveled towards Earth's north pole mostly out of curiosity, but also in the hope that he would elude Piccolo. The desert had given way to mountains and pine forests, then endless tundra, where one evening Vegeta found an abandoned castle. He saw its stone towers standing out against the flat tundra in the fading daylight and veered towards it. The castle was a derelict monstrosity perched on top of a flat hill covered with the brown-green grass that grew in the tundra. There were no roads that led to the fortress and no other signs that humans had ever lived here.

Vegeta dipped slightly in the air. He quickly scrambled to recover his balance and altitude. He was exhausted. When he did sleep he slept horribly. He was nearly used to the constant headache, but every night he had chaotic and stressful dreams that woke him. He hated laying or sitting there with nothing to do but think until he fell asleep again. He was thinking too much these days. It didn't help that every time he fell asleep Vegeta was reminded of dying. He pressed two fingers into the hole his armor where Frieza had pierced his heart. Physically the wound had healed thanks to the magic of Porunga, but he would never forget the agony of his mind and body slowly slipping away into the dark as blood seeped out the hole burned in his chest.

It would be dark soon and the cloud cover would block out any starlight. The idea of stopping at such an obvious landmark as a castle in the middle of nowhere irritated Vegeta. It would be too easy to ambush or trap him, but he didn't want to fly blind; besides, he couldn't remember Earth's day cycles exactly, but this far north night might only be a few hours. Or a few days.

There was a light tap as his boot touched down on the flagstone courtyard inside the gates of the castle. Moss and dull flowers grew up between the cracks in the flat stones at his feet. The front gates were bent and open, corroded with rust and undisturbed from whenever they had been bashed open from the inside. The broken furniture, torn curtains, shattered statues, and smashed chests had been thrown out into the courtyard at random, presumably from either rioters or looters searching for treasures. The serene disembodied stone face of a nymph smiled up at Vegeta. He scowled and kicked it over to a cabinet of broken china, causing a loud crash that punctured the constant sound of wind past his ears.

Before Vegeta moved any further he waited to see what Piccolo's chi did. The distant feeling that had followed him for thousands of kilometers slowly ceased approaching him then became fainter until it disappeared entirely as it always did when he stopped moving. Vegeta strained his senses to see if he would do anything else, but Piccolo had indeed stopped following him for now. He exhaled through clenched teeth. What an utter nuisance.

The walls of the castle towered around him, its windows dark and vacant like the eye sockets of a skull and the door to the main door stripped of its ornaments hanging loosely from its hinges like teeth. As Vegeta wandered up the grandiose front steps to the main entrance, he remembered the Earthlings' unsolicited explanation of the history of their planet. There had once been more people, more empires before they nearly killed each other off in wars. This castle must have been important in its time, if its size was any indication. The entire palace fortress looked to be larger than Capsule Corporation, although now only a third of it was still standing. The other two thirds were either collapsed or would collapse at any time. Why someone would build a palace this far north, away from everything where it was so cold was beyond Vegeta. The humans seemed to prefer the warmer climates and he supposed if someone had to live in one place for the rest of their life it might as well be somewhere warm.

The front entrance led to more steps, which took Vegeta to an enormous room of columns and broken stain glass windows. The windows spanned the height of the wall and if they weren't falling apart and the sun was out they would have cast colorful patterns on the floor. As the light faded so did the ceiling and edges of the chamber, making it eerie and gloomy, reminding Vegeta of the throne room in the royal palace. At the end of a ragged carpet that had once been red was a dais with a massive throne carved from a block of stone. As Vegeta walked towards the throne he tried to remember the royal palace.

He couldn't remember the whole palace for he had been forced to leave when he was six. He remembered the throne room, the audience chamber where his father spoke in private with visitors and warriors of importance. His father's private quarters were at the back of the north wing and adjacent were apartments where he had lived with his mother before she died. Between his mother and father's living quarters there had been a courtyard garden that had separated the two, and in the center under the willows a deep reflecting pond that Nappa warned him not to play near after that day.

On the opposite side of his father's apartments had been another courtyard filled with sand where Vegeta had learned to fight, where his mother sat under the overhang, next to the columns painted red by the entrance, and yelled at him for his every slightest error. Any misstep or sign of laziness had ended with his face in the sand and sometimes blood in his mouth.

With what was left of the light he gathered what remained of the wood in the throne room and shreds of what must have been a banner or a flag and started a fire on the stone floor near the throne. He sat on the carpet and leaned back against the block of stone.

Vegeta wondered what kind of king he would have been. His grandfather had been an ineffective king; Frieza and the Kolds had put him on the throne and most of his entire reign had been one long bloody civil war. His father had attempted to liberate his people and obviously failed, he mused bitterly. Vegeta's life had been remarkably free of any royal obligations and responsibilities. At the time he would have been expected to start learning such things the planet Vegeta was destroyed. He had been born solely to become Frieza's pawn. If Frieza hadn't destroyed the Saiyan home world Vegeta might have been crowned the king by now.

Vegeta wanted to believe that if he was king he would have freed his people, but he knew it wouldn't have been possible. The only reason he was as strong and smart as he was now was because he had spent his life fighting on the front without rest. If he was king he would have been raised a politician, not a warrior. His days would have been spent studying, then speaking about endless trivial things. He would have been soft and dependent on others to fight his battles for him and he would have spent all his time trying to keep those individuals happy; not acting on what he wanted to do or knew was right. Vegeta despised politics. He supposed he took too much after his mother. He wondered what she would have to say if she could see him now.

Frieza was dead finally. Killed by a Saiyan. Vegeta should be satisfied. His mother, father, and the Saiyans killed by Frieza could rest in peace, but the thing Vegeta had wanted for so long did not bring him peace. Instead he felt even more purposeless than before.

_I begged that peasant Kakarrot to avenge the Saiyans_, Vegeta thought with shame. _I was dying, I thought that would be the end of everything._ Vegeta shut his eyes. He thought he would die without accomplishing one of the few things he had wanted to accomplish with his life.

And now he had to live with the knowledge that that common-bred bastard Kakarrot had exceeded him.

He had failed his bloodline and failed himself.

There was no point in being alive anymore.

"I was better off dead," he mumbled before falling asleep.

Vegeta vaguely recalled dreaming of his mother, not as the bitter and broken woman he remembered, but in the idealized way his father described the love of his life to his son. She was dressed in traditional Saiyan clothing, not the more contemporary armor Vegeta wore, but roughly woven fabrics dyed blue, purple, and yellow and several bangles on her wrists and a heavy torq around her neck. He was still a child so she bent and whispered something in Vegeta's ear and he woke up before he could hear what she'd said.

Morning grey permeated the throne room along with a chill dampness that Vegeta shook off of himself as he rose from the ancient throne. He blinked and looked around him, groggier than he usually was when he woke up. He was pleased to realize he had slept through the entire night without waking up.

He was hungry, but doubted this mausoleum had anything left in it beyond rats. He didn't bother to scatter the remains of his fire. Piccolo wouldn't need those as a clue to his whereabouts. If only Vegeta could figure out how to conceal his chi.

As he flew away from the derelict castle, Vegeta turned to look back. What had been a shadowy and forbidding throne room in the night was only decrepit and decayed in the daylight. This had once been the heart of a great kingdom, undoubtedly home to many arrogant kings who thought their reigns would never end.

_Now look at it_, Vegeta thought with disgust, _no one probably remembers it's here. _

_ Like me._

Vegeta snarled with rage and frustration. He drew both his hands back behind his right ear and began to gather ki. He would blow it up just to prove he and it were nothing alike. He was not a deteriorating blight on the world that no one recalled. He might be the last Saiyan of the royal line, but he would never, never allow the universe to forget him. He would be remembered and feared forever! He threw his hands in front of him and released all the energy he had built up in one radiant explosion.

-- -- --

On Sunday Bulma and her father were sitting at the outside patio with their planners and schedules spread out in front of them. It was an hour before lunch and since it was such a nice day, the air was warm and there was a slight breeze, they had decided to have their informal business meeting outside.

"I can't believe you put this off until the last minute," Bulma chastised her father.

"It's not the last minute," he said, lighting his cigarette. "We still have a month."

"To put together an entire show for the inventor's fair and you don't even know what you want to put in it! Our competition is already shipping their displays and products to Silicone City!"

Her father giggled like a lecherous school boy, "Heh heh, silicone, like what they put in boobies."

Bulma groaned. "Or computer chips?"

"Ah, I mean, yes-- like in computer chips."

Did she know any men who weren't insane or perverts? She didn't think so. She decided to let it slide so she could actually glean something productive from this meeting with her father. "Well, is there anything new you want to put in the trade show?"

"I thought the new models of airships and cars would be enough," Dr. Briefs said, tapping ash off the end of his cigarette into an ashtray nearby.

Bulma tapped her stylus on her computer's screen and pulled open a file she had left on its desktop. She slid her planner over so the display was visible to her father.

"This is the public opinion of how current, innovative, and popular Capsule Corporation is right now."

"Our coolness rating then?"

Bulma sighed, "Yes, Dad. The past few years we've been falling behind. Everyone owns our products or uses Hoi Poi enabled devices, but no one is looking to us for new things."

Her father looked at her carefully. "So you're not happy being the brand everyone uses, relies on, and trusts?"

Bulma bit her lip, thinking of how to phrase what she wanted to say. It was difficult to concentrate because she heard shouting nearby that was distracting her, but it was probably nothing important. "You don't have to reinvent the wheel. Just some sort of gimmicky gadget that gets people talking about the brand."

Dr. Briefs frowned in thought for a moment then spoke. "Do you want me to invent an MP3 player phone that connects to the internet?"

Now the shouting was becoming unbearably loud and Bulma could discern what was being said and who was saying it.

"He killed a village of our people! How can you just let this go!?" That sounded like a Namekian.

Bulma recognized the accented and deep voice of Vegeta echoing off the house and garage buildings around the compound, "Well are you going to stand there and shout at me all day or are you going to fight? I can't blame you for being afraid to fight me. You'll probably just end up dead like all your villager friends."

"I don't think that's the TV," Dr. Briefs said.

"Neither do I," Bulma replied, jumping up from her chair. She dashed down the steps of the patio and ran as fast as she could around the house to the greenhouse where the Namekians were living. While she was running all she could hear was the slapping of her flip-flops against the pavement and she hoped to all the benevolent deities in the universe the Namekians or Vegeta hadn't started trading blows.

As Bulma rounded the hedges that surrounded the house she could see two Namekians that appeared to be about Piccolo's age trying to calm down their friend, who was shouting at a hobo that had wandered into Capsule Corp. Wait, no, it was Vegeta. Bulma struggled not to burst out laughing at his appearance.

Rather than ignore the Namekian or walk away like a sensible person would do, Vegeta was only antagonizing him more. His face was covered with thick stubble on the verge of a beard that made him look older and slightly out of his mind, but he still carried himself like royalty. His head was arrogantly tilted back and his arms crossed across his chest as he sneered at the Namekian who was powerless to avenge his fallen brethren.

Bulma felt the same fear and helplessness the first time she had seen Vegeta on Namek. She had run outside her hideout in a cave to greet Krillin after returning from visiting the eldest Namekian and the friends had been celebrating his finding a dragon ball when the Saiyan Prince had arrived. Krillin had been careless traveling back to base camp and Vegeta had seized the opportunity. It had been the first time Bulma had seen Vegeta in person. She had only seen grainy news footage from all the ill-fated journalists who tried to catch a glimpse of the alien that blew up East City. The clip had been from so far away and brief she hadn't even been able to see his face. Of the Saiyans who came to Earth he was by far the least intimidating, if you were to judge by appearance alone. From all the horror stories she had heard from Gohan, Goku, and Krillin she had been expecting a vile, menacing brute—not that Vegeta wasn't menacing. She had watched him kill and blow up that green-haired alien and she had been scared witless at what he had implied doing to her to convince Krillin to give him the dragon ball. She had thought he would be someone more like Raditz or the Saiyan Vegeta had come to Earth with-- Bulma didn't think she had ever learned his name. Instead Vegeta had been a haughty little aristocrat, who was cold and calculating, and clever, but easy to anger. And small. She really couldn't get over how small he was.

The Vegeta in front of her, standing on her lawn was not the same Vegeta she had seen on Namek or even a few weeks ago. His clothing was dirty and torn and he didn't look like he had shaved or looked in a mirror for a month. He looked tired, gaunt, and a little weak on his legs. When she'd seen him leaning against a tree on Earth, silently waiting for the news from Namek, Bulma had just seen a lonely, angry man with nowhere to go. All the things he had babbled to Bulma when her mother had left him liquored up on the couch had made her believe Vegeta had led a very, very miserable life. Maybe the outside was starting the match the inside.

Bulma opened her mouth to call Vegeta's name, but someone else spoke first.

"Necke, that is enough!" a voice called out.

Muri, the new eldest Namekian and keeper of the dragon balls, slowly walked out of the green house, over to the three Namekians and put a hand on the angry Namekian, Necke's, arm. He spoke softly and quietly in Namekian to Necke.

Necke began to calm down, or realized there was nothing he could do because he stopped struggling against his friends' arms. Muri said something else Bulma didn't understand and Necke replied and nodded. The four Namekians turned and began to walk back into the greenhouse, but Necke lingered. He looked back at Vegeta.

"One day you will pay for the evil you've done," he promised Vegeta. "I hope you learn what it is to suffer the loss of your home and your loved ones."

For an instant Bulma thought she saw Vegeta's leering expression falter. Was it disgust? Or pain she saw flicker across his face? It was only there an instant because Vegeta threw back his head and laughed dreadfully. Bulma felt a chill terror pass through her. He was about to do something very bad.

"You have no idea what it is to lose everything! Let me show you!" Vegeta snarled and lunged at the Namekian.

"Vegeta, no!" Bulma shouted, running forward. Bulma had no idea what prompted this act of bravery or insanity in her or what she even hoped to accomplish. She just knew that if he killed one Namekian he would kill the rest of them, then he'd fight Gohan and Piccolo, and he might lose… Or he might not. There would be no one to stop him if anything happened to Piccolo and Gohan. Goku would come home to Vegeta sitting on top of a pile of corpses, waiting for him.

Bulma didn't have time to discover why she thought she could make Vegeta stop or if it was even possible to change someone as despicable as he was; as she ran forward the front of her flip-flop caught on the ground.

Bulma tripped and sailed a short distance through the air, her arms flailing and knocked Vegeta off-balance and over into a flowerbed, landing on top of him.

-- -- --


	6. Not dead yet, but very close

"You know… I believe I genuinely hate you," Vegeta growled.

"You're a real peach yourself," Bulma muttered next to his ear muffled by the bed of coarsely chopped tree bark they had landed in. More accurately he had landed in. The idiot girl had tripped and landed on him. The petals of a dozens of brightly colored flowering plants drifted back to the ground and a fine cloud of yellow dust settled over them. This was not helping his sinus headache.

Vegeta felt the bridge of his nose begin to tingle. Dammit.

His chest rose as he took a mighty breath of air. Then sneezed. On her.

Bulma screamed and pushed her self off of him. "Oh god! Oh god! This is so disgusting! I have, like, your ape snot all over me now!" She stood up and flailed her hands rapidly as if this would help her.

"I did not get…" Vegeta said with distain as he sat up, "Snot on you."

"Uuuggghhh, I probably have space herpes now!" Bulma wailed ignoring him.

"I do not have space herpes!" Vegeta retorted with outrage, "That's not how you transmit that disease any way!"

Bulma stopped mid-meltdown. "Space herpes are real? I just made that up."

"Of course they're real!" he shouted in her face. How could she be so stupid and obnoxious?

Bulma's crying subsided to a sniffle, and she didn't seem to notice or care as she sank to her knees crushing more flowers. She looked over at the Namekians. The old man and the three young Namekians were returning to the green house. Muri gave her a brief nod of thanks, which Bulma acknowledged with an awkward wave and a grin forced through her theatrical tears. Vegeta only glowered at them as they left as he sat in a pile of flowers bereft of his dignity.

Bulma looked back at Vegeta, wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes with her palms, and smirked at him.

"What?" Vegeta growled.

"Nothing," Bulma bit her lip to keep from giggling, but she couldn't stop grinning.

"You have five seconds to tell me what you're laughing at or else…"

"So… you grew a beard," Bulma said conversationally with a huge smile. Vegeta's lower face and jaw had erupted into a beard any lumber jack or hipster would envy.

Vegeta scowled. "Nothing gets by you," Vegeta said sarcastically as he got to his feet.

"I didn't expect you to come back until we summoned the dragon," she told him rising to her feet next to him.

Vegeta made a noncommittal grunt and looked across the lawn. He realized his grunt sounded congested. He noticed Bulma studying him carefully. He recognized the look from the face of opponents in battle; she was accessing him to form her strategy and tactic against him. Against his will Vegeta found himself excited by the prospect of a challenge even if it would be more verbal sparring with the shrew and at the same time he found himself embarrassed by his unkempt appearance around her.

"I didn't have a razor," he snapped at her. Starting defensively. An unusual tactic for him and he wondered how it would play out.

"It's not that… Although we have one you could use one if you wanted to… I wanted to know if you wanted to eat lunch with us. Do you?" Bulma asked him her expression was calculating, but he saw a hidden glimmer of optimism that filled him with disgust.

Vegeta growled and looked away. It wasn't the same open generosity she had given him when she had asked him to stay at Capsule Corp or when she had found him in the desert. She didn't seem as confident as she had previously. She looked at him as if she were handling a wild animal she thought she could control. Good she was beginning to understand he was dangerous and he would cure her of any notion that he could be controlled.

"I thought you hated me for killing your boy friend," he growled.

Bulma took a deep breath and exhaled. "I haven't forgiven you for that, but…" She looked up at the sky for a moment as if the answer was written in the clouds.

"But?" Vegeta asked impatiently.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she said winking at him her usual self-assurance returning.

Vegeta scowled, "Second chance at what?"

Bulma shrugged, "Whatever you want to be, Vegeta. You never answered if you wanted to eat lunch."

Vegeta crossed his arms and looked away at nothing in particular. "I suppose I could bring myself to eat a meal with you," he spoke haughtily. Out of the corner of his eye he watched carefully for her reaction.

Bulma ignored his reluctance to accept and smiled triumphantly. "Alright! I'll go tell Mom to adjust the cook 'bots."

Bulma paused and took in Vegeta's appearance again, "But you have to clean up first. My parent have a strict 'no unwashed vagrants' policy for house guests."

Vegeta silently followed Bulma in to the house to a small room lined with white tiles. A large mirror was mounted to a wall with a wash basin beneath it, a ceramic chair with a seat shaped like bowl was in the corner, a tub surrounded by a plastic curtain against the wall, and a moments glance Vegeta was able to access this was indeed a bathroom.

"Do you understand the concept of a bathroom and a toilet?" Bulma asked slowly with some uncertainty and slight flush creeping to her face.

Of course, he did, what complete nit-wit… Hmmm… "Toy-what?"

"A toilet? You know like…?" Bulma struggled to find the decent way to speak about such a personal subject. "Where you go number two?"

How precious! Humans numbered their body functions. He should have destroyed them all when he had the chance. "Number two? What's number one? Or three for that matter?"

"Number one is like liquid, and number two is like solid, and number three… I think that's like both at the same time," Bulma said turning a deep shade of red.

Could it be a subject the harpy had some sense of modesty about?! "I have no idea what you are talking about," Vegeta said.

"You know like… poop and pee. You do it in that," Bulma said pointing awkwardly to the ceramic bowl, "The toilet."

Vegeta spoke slowly with mock confusion, "Poop?"

"I mean… what comes in must come out… poop," Bulma began to fidget and tried desperately to change the subject, "You know how to use a razor right?"

Vegeta snorted dismissively, "Of course I can shave. But what do you mean poop?

"I mean like I've seen how you saiyans can like shovel all that food in. Your body doesn't use all of it. What's left has to go somewhere, right?!"

Vegeta stared at her.

"I mean Goku poops… I… I've only actually ever known him to pee in inappropriate places… Oh my god… Do saiyans not poop?!"

"You are a strange and primitive race," Vegeta said contemptuously as he sidled past her into the bathroom and shut the door in her face.

"How can they not poop?" Bulma exclaimed to herself.

Bulma left Vegeta to his own devices to do what ever it was saiyans did in the bathroom. Evidently it was not pooping. She avoided work by playing adorable and quaint games on her tablet, chewing on her lip pretending she didn't have the fate of her company resting on some gimmick gadget they needed to present at a trade show. Behind her she heard a loud clearing of the throat noise that caused her to jump.

She sighed and slowly turned around. Behind her was Vegeta looking like a new man. His patchy hobo beard was gone replaced with a smooth shaved face that made him look like his normal ageless self. His hair had returned its normal resplendent flame shape and he smelled clean from even across the room. Vegeta still retained his regal posture despite the fact he was wearing some old cotton drawstring pajama bottoms of Yamcha's that had been rolled up numerous times at the ankles, and his Capsule Corp brand t-shirt stretched tightly across his muscular arms and broad chest. The shirt being tight was to be expected, it was actually Bulma's. Bulma decided it would be best if she did not tell Vegeta he was wearing the clothes she wore when she decided to vegetate on a couch in front of a television. Or tell him he filled out her shirt better than she did.

The only thing that appeared to be amiss with Vegeta was a red puffiness around his eyes. Bulma then discovered why. Vegeta threw back his head and then in a violent explosion sneezed. The room rattled and a picture frame fell off the wall.

"Bless you," Bulma said.

"This damn planet!" Vegeta said snuffling loudly, "There is something in the air."

"How tragic you should be allergic to my planet, Vegeta. I guess you will have to leave immediately," Bulma said with a smile.

"Give me the dragon balls and I would be delighted to," Vegeta glowered.

"Oops, I seem to have misplaced them," Bulma said rising to her feet. "Perhaps you will join me for some lunch instead?"

He followed her to the kitchen elbowing past her to start seeking out food. For most families the kitchen was the heart of the house where the family spent most of their time together and the Briefs kitchen was no exception. The room was actually quite large despite belonging to a family of just three. Bulma's numerous friends visiting required a larger room and Bulma's mother had been happy to renovate in recent years. There were ample counter tops available and a large island lined with bar stools filled the center. The center of the island was a stove, almost like a hibachi restaurant in style, with the bar stools across from it so who ever was in the kitchen could watch their food being prepared and served immediately. Bulma remembered fondly Endless Grilled Cheese night where she continuously made grilled cheese to feed to Goku, Krillin, Yamcha, and herself in the wee hours of the morning.

"Is this edible?" Vegeta asked picking up a loaf of bread.

"Yes… you have to unwrap it first," Bulma informed him.

Bulma watched as Vegeta reached into the bag and began cramming slices of bread into his mouth as fast as he could. After that he ate the fruit in a bowl on the middle of the counter that her mother left out.

"Have you been eating at all?" Bulma asked him.

"There was nothing left," Vegeta grunted in between bites.

"Oh great, you probably devastated an entire eco system," Bulma complained punching in an order into the menu for the cooking droids for a banquet for twenty people. Twenty-five minutes until the first course. Twenty-five minutes in a kitchen with a hungry saiyan sounded like the plot to a horror movie.

"If you could just wait, there's food coming."

The room they were in now was the kitchen proper, but below them was the kitchen used for banquets, parties, when the family was generally too lazy to cook, and when ever Goku visited (with the exception of Endless Grilled Cheese Night). Even as they spoke dozens of robots were preparing an epic feast. Dr. Briefs claimed to be able to invent a replicator that would be able to construct atoms into food, but protested that any food that came out of it would taste vile and how could any one ever possibly want to eat food made in a machine. Real food was what the body needed and there were actually several gardens in the compound where the fresh vegetables were grown.

Vegeta ignored Bulma and began opening and closing the cabinets looking for something else to eat. Bulma began to slink along the wall to the walk in pantry hoping to hide her stash of snack food before Vegeta discovered the pantry. She managed to slip inside and retrieve a box of double chocolate pop tarts, but as she turned to sneak back out of the pantry she found Vegeta peering over her shoulder.

"If you wait there will be and entire meal for twenty people just for you, over there on that table," Bulma pointed to at table in a room between the kitchen and the living room.

Vegeta glanced at the table, made a dismissive noise, and pushed past Bulma into the pantry. Bulma scampered away with her box of pastries. Bulma listened as Vegeta ripped open boxes and plastic wrap to get to the contents.

"You're the worst house guest ever."

"Bulma! Where are you manners?" Mrs. Briefs said entering the room. She was dressed in a flattering red mid century style party dress.

"Vegeta, you eat whatever you like," Mrs. Briefs cooed to him.

"Famous last words," Bulma muttered.

Twenty-three minutes later Vegeta had eaten everything in and out of sight and still looked hungry. A chime and a soothing robotic voice announced that their meal was ready and was being served in the dining room. As Bulma and her mother seated themselves Vegeta picked up a turkey with his bare hands, brought it to his face and started gnawing on it. Bulma looked wistfully at a large wing. Dr. Briefs seated himself next to Bulma, but it was a moment before he realized no one was eating, just watching Vegeta.

"Is he going to share?" Dr Briefs asked with confusion.

"No," Bulma said watching as Vegeta pour a tureen of gravy into his mouth.

Realizing he would need to compete for food Dr. Briefs moved to the other end of the table and began hacking at the other turkey in an attempt to get his fair share. Vegeta noticed a challenge, snatched up a plate of mash potatoes, and began shoveling them into his mouth. Dr. Briefs began frantically plating food at his end of the table. Mashed potatoes, turkey leg, green beans, and numerous rolls, but at the opposite end Vegeta had begun ripping apart a spiral ham. Bulma felt a pang as she watched the ham disappearing down the black hole that was Vegeta's mouth.

"So, Vegeta, how did you enjoy our beautiful planet?" Bulma asked.

Vegeta did exactly what she had hoped to and put the remaining third of the ham down next to her.

"Primitive!" he barked, "Crumbling ruins everywhere and it wasn't ruins it was complete wilderness."

"But surely you enjoyed all the peace and quiet," Bulma's mother pointed out distracting Vegeta. Bulma snatched up the ham and stuffed several spirals into her mouth.

"Bah, the only thing I enjoy is screams of my enemies as a slaughter them."

"Surely you have some other hobbies," Bulma said ham grease slightly smeared on her face. Mrs. Briefs began moving green beans, salad, beets, and cheese on to her plate while Vegeta spoke to Bulma.

"What could bet greater than battle?"

"Uh, science and technology?" Bulma said matter-of-factly.

"The theater? Painting?" Mrs. Briefs said helpfully.

"Music," Dr. Briefs said through a dinner roll.

"I care nothing of these things."

"Culinary arts?" Bulma asked.

"Food?" Vegeta replied after puzzling over the word. He shoved three dinner rolls in his mouth at once.

"Yes, you seem to enjoy it," Bulma said looking over the desecrated dinner table.

"I eat what sustains me," Vegeta grunted. Bulma let him inhale the rest of his meal in peace. Dr. Briefs huddled in the corner guarding his plate from Vegeta. After ten minutes Vegeta had picked both turkey carcasses clean and all but licked the insides of very serving dish on the table. Remarkably the table was still quite neat, crumb, and spill free. Bulma ruefully noticed both Vegeta's face and clothing were spotless. He picked up napkin, wiped his fingers clean, briefly glanced in Bulma's direction, and wordlessly walked away from the table as way of excusing himself.

Mrs. Briefs politely ahemed and rose to her feet. "That was a lovely family dinner."

With great exaggeration Bulma rolled her eyes as soon as her mother politely excused herself from the dinning room. There was a hum of machinery as the table began lowered itself into the kitchen below. Dr. Briefs and Bulma were alone to speak together.

"Interesting boy that, Vegeta."  
"Not the word I would choose," Bulma replied.

"There is nothing wrong with a healthy appetite, Bulma," Dr. Briefs said sternly.

"You're right, but that wasn't healthy! He just ate a months worth of groceries!"

"Not to worry about that! I have a great idea that will keep both you and Vegeta busy until the trade show. It even involves a tropical island! But no cameras. Reality television is rot for the mind!"

Bulma grimaced. She knew instantly that she would not like this _and_ she knew he watched at least four reality television shows at all times of the year, but Dr. Briefs continued undisturbed.

"My associate and great ally in the world of invention Senbei Norimaki tell me he has something we might be interested in showing as part of our trade show exhibition."

Senbei Norimaki, or Dr. Slump, as his peers knew him, was some old college buddy of Dr. Briefs and occasionally partnered with Capsule Corp to patent and sell some of his inventions. Bulma knew some of the fundamental idea of robotics and androids went back to Dr. Slump, rather Dr Norimaki, but most of his ideas were sort of awful and disasters. Bulma felt a chill of fear if one of their key ideas for the convention would be based on Dr Norimaki's design, especially this close to the start of the convention.

"I have my own work to do," Bulma protested, but Dr. Briefs interrupted.  
"I already cleared you schedule."

"How does Vegeta fit into this?"

"I thought he would enjoy having something to do."

"Great… Well when are we expected?"

"Tomorrow!"

Bulma groaned.


End file.
